Some Days Are Signs

Friday evening, the Stevenson High School football game was delayed due to lightening. We all huddled in the school to wait it out. Actually, huddling was not really necessary. This school is so ginormous, we could have fit the surrounding suburbia and their pets in there.

In the hallway, I shared a nice conversation with one of my daughter's fellow band members. This young man has been classmates with my daughter for years.

As we talked, he said he remembered that I knew sign language but that he could not remember why I knew signing. He explained that he was taking a sign language class. We proceeded to communicate to each other with basic signs. Me: "Wow"  He: "Yes"  Me: "Very good"  He: "Thank you"

How amazing that a 14 year old ninth grader is learning sign language!  I am not pompous enough to think that this Freshman boy is learning sign language because of my influence. He is a very bright kid. One of those curious about a lot of things kids.

However, I have zero recall of ever talking to him about signing. Maybe my daughter told him something. Sign language has always been in my speech pathologist toolkit. So my daughter knows some signs. Even some she really should not know.

This Friday-night-in-the-hallway experience has me thinking. We never know what we could say (or do) that another person may hold on to.  We may never know if what we communicate - by speaking, writing, smiling, or signing - is a life changer for someone, for better or for worse.

We CAN be the change we want to see in the world, even when we are totally oblivious we are doing so. Maybe especially then.